We found out he was a retired masseuse and a professional dancer. For the next four weekends, Myron invited us to his dance club, I really got to know...him. Yes, he was a very good dancer.After dancing one Saturday night we went back to his house to have a couple of drinks. I said, “Myron why don’t you come over next weekend, its my fortieth birthday. John and I are going out to dinner and dancing. I made reservations at a real nice place and I am sure I could call and get another person in. I. “Fine, you can have fruit snacks,” I nodded. “Yesss,” Dylan hissed, and did a rather theatrical celebratory fist pump. Dylan was the ham of the family, and that was saying something, because all the boys were hams in one way or another. But Dylan took the cake. He was nine, small and thin and bony. He was the runt of the brothers for sure but I felt sure he’d end up tall like two of his older brothers when he hit puberty. He had a big smile and a crazy mop of long curly hair that he refused to. We will then bank your cheque and send you instructions which you will obey to the letter, as well as a map of the journey to our estate on Dartmoor. Your name will not be used, you are a thing not a person and will be referred to always as number 9." I knew that I had to take this opportunity for good or ill, or I would always wonder what it would have been like, so I said I understood and agreed. I was then given two addresses and a map to each, And we parted. I decided to go. It was past midnight and I was tired. My friend and I had come to the bar out of sheer curiosity. To dance. To drink cool new drinks. To see all the fun people.But then she was whisked away by some dressed-to-kill vampire, and it had been too hard to follow her. The music was too loud and the lights were too shiny and bright, and there were too many people. I had a headache and I wanted to go home.I remember I closed my eyes to shut out the strobing lights and leaned my head back, my hand.